


And It Was Good

by unadrift



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s06e22 The Man Who Knew Too Much, Gen, Godstiel: Cas as God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadrift/pseuds/unadrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel did not have a god complex. Castiel had many responsibilities, but little time to dwell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And It Was Good

**Author's Note:**

> A could-have-happened AUish little thing set some time after season season six. Not a fix-it. More like the opposite, really. And yes, it's been sitting on my hard drive, forgotten and not quite finished, for _that_ long. Not beta'd.

On the first day, Castiel created the foundation, the walls and the roof. He re-made the Roadhouse as it used to be, but he made it better. Never would strong winds lift its roof, never would fire consume its walls.

Dean saw it, and he said, "What the hell?"

Castiel observed as Dean carefully inspected every room, every corner, every floorboard. He heard Dean shout, "Cas! Get your creepy-ass god-complex down here and let me out!"

Had Castiel been in his physical form, his lips would have formed a small, indulgent smile. 

Castiel did not have a god complex. Castiel had many responsibilities, but little time to dwell. 

He did not show himself. He didn't create a door, either.

 

*

 

On the second day, Castiel created pipes, wires and fixtures and flooded them with water and electricity.

Dean flicked a switch, and he muttered, "I've got light. Hallelujah." 

It took a little while for Dean to notice the sink. Castiel watched as he crossed the room quickly to drink in deep gulps straight from the tap. 

Afterwards, Dean shifted to lean against the wall. He slid down to the floor, letting gravity do all the work. "I need to eat, too, you know," he said, frustration obvious in his voice. "You better not have forgotten that little fact about us mud monkeys, you bastard."

Castiel had found that even the smallest acts of creation required unforeseen amounts of time and energy, none of which he possessed in abundance at the current state of events.

Another day without food would do Dean no harm. 

Later, when Castiel's attention was directed elsewhere, he was peripherally aware of Dean cursing his name, loudly and repeatedly. This wasn't a new experience, but the act never had to be considered blasphemy before. 

Dean was not an ordinary human, though. Dean would stay in Castiel's favor, no matter the frequency or the magnitude of his sins. He would be provided for. He would be safe. And in time, he would understand. In time, Dean would appreciate the lengths Castiel was going to.

 

*

 

On the third day, Castiel created the shelves in the storeroom and the refrigerator in the kitchen, and he filled them both with Dean's favorite foods.

Dean inspected it all, and he muttered to himself, "Like I'm gonna eat that. I don't know where it's been."

Not having consumed any food in more than two days, his resolve didn't hold for long.

"You could at least make a fucking appearance, you asshole," Dean shouted that night. "What the hell do you want from me?"

Since the answer to the question was: _Nothing,_ Castiel didn't make himself visible then either.

 

*

 

On the fourth day, Castiel created a table and chairs for Dean to use, and a bed for him to sleep in.

Dean saw it, and he muttered, "Dude, about time," but he did not go to sleep for a long while. He tried to break through a wall. He destroyed two chairs and the table in the process. A table leg nearly cracked Dean's skull as it bounced back at an unexpected angle. 

Dean's efforts were futile. The wall was impenetrable. The furniture would be whole again in the morning. The same went for Dean's body.

For the first time since his rise to power, Castiel watched Dean sleep. 

It was much more satisfying to see him rest comfortably, rather than sprawled on the hard floor. And if Dean didn't dream at all that night, well, that was Castiel's doing. 

Even in sleep, Dean needed saving. Castiel wouldn't have it any other way.

 

*

 

On the fifth day, Castiel created entertainment.

Dean found the computer on the table, and he said, "Porn? Seriously, Cas? You're a pretty shady excuse for a god, you realize that?"

The computer, the books and the billiard table provided distraction, but they wouldn't be enough. Dean could not sit still for long. 

Now that he had the peace he'd longed for, Dean had no idea what to do with it. 

 

*

 

On the sixth day, Castiel brought Dean's friends and family to keep him company.

"Dean?" Sam asked upon arrival. "What's going on? Where've you been? You've been missing for... Wait, is this...? But it burned down years ago!"

Dean did not answer him. He stared mutely past his brother, at the place where his mother and father had appeared, the corner of the room where Bobby and Ellen and Jo joined them.

"Yeah, Dean. Why don't you tell us what's going on?" Jo said, crossing her arms. "We were dead and in heaven five minutes ago. What have you two done this time?"

"Dean?" Sam asked again, not taking his eyes off their parents.

Dean shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, choking on the words. "I'm sorry he dragged you into this."

"Who dragged us into what?" Bobby asked.

"Boys," John Winchester said in a warning tone, stepping forward.

Dean fled up the stairs, taking two at a time, and slammed the bedroom door behind him. 

 

*

 

On the seventh day, Castiel allowed himself the first visit.

Dean stared at him for a long time, and he asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"You were my very first creation," Castiel said. "I love you above all others."

Dean snorted. It was not a nice sound. "Oh, yeah? Looks like I'm a prisoner to me."

Castiel shook his head. "You are safe here. Left to your own devices in the world, you would attract danger, as you always have. You would attempt to overthrow me, a task that is both unnecessary and impossible." 

Dean looked at him, long and hard. Angry disappointment radiated from him on all levels of Castiel's awareness. Dean's soul shone with emotion, as strongly as it ever had.

"What about free will?" Dean asked. "Cas, come on, you used to believe in at least that."

Castiel told him the truth. "Free will is an illusion. In the end, all roads lead to the same destination. You have yet to understand this. But," he added, smiling softly, "that is fine, Dean. Until you do, you will be safe here."

"Cas..." Dean started to say.

Castiel took his leave.

 

*

 

Castiel stops by the Roadhouse once a day. It is not as often as he would like, considering the manner in which time passes for him.

Dean speaks to Castiel only to try and persuade him to let them all go. Castiel allows him to believe he's making progress.

As long as Dean is here and occupied, Dean is safe.

Having two worlds to tend to is a small price to pay.


End file.
